Casildo. Darbaran.
Mazin.
I glanced up at Noor. One name in my puzzle intersected with hers.
Vahid.
I said their names over and over again in my mind, until a plan formed, until I could visualize every step I needed to take to get there.
And the very first one was getting our hands on that djinn treasure.
That night we feasted on stewed goat my nanu slaughtered for the occasion. I scooped the last of the gravy from my bowl with a pieceof chewy flatbread and savored the black cardamom and chilis on my tongue, wondering how I ever made it through the year without eating this. I sat at the low table in Nanu’s main room, picking at the remaining spicy pickles on my plate, the sour sharpness keeping me present.
Nanu had invited some of the women of the village over to assist with the food, and I kept my gaze low as they shot curious glances at Noor and me. Nanu assured me they wouldn’t report us to Vahid, but I still felt uneasy about so many being aware of our escape. I didn’t want anything to stand in the way of what I was about to do.
My father’s death had solidified my resolve.
But I didn’t cry. I didn’t grieve.
All my sorrow had channeled itself into anger. The fierce need for retaliation wrapped itself around my throat, claws piercing my skin. I gripped the edges of my bowl so hard I was surprised the stone didn’t crack in half.
“Are we really going where I think we’re going?” Noor sidled up next to me, plopping herself down on a cushion, her plate as empty as mine. “Are you finally agreeing to go after Souma’s treasure with me?”
I leaned back, releasing a heavy breath. Noor and I were both on a familiar path of revenge. And with her access to Souma’s treasure, we could do much more than dream about it.
“Yes.”
Noor spooned more rice onto her plate from the serving bowls in front of us and lowered her voice. “I thought you didn’t care about it.”
“That was before I knew my father had been murdered. Now, I understand what you wanted to do. And I agree. We both deserve a path to retribution.” Those choking fingers of rage tightened on my throat, and I almost couldn’t breathe.
Noor set down her bowl and rubbed the back of her neck. “Dani, I know you are angry—”
“I’m much more than angry.” My voice was a low snarl.
“Right. But don’t make big decisions on the heel of finding out what happened to your father. Think this through.”
“And is that what you told yourself when Vahid killed Souma? When he killed your father?”
She sucked in a breath through her teeth, but I continued.
“I am thinking this through. More than anyone ever has. I am thinking of every cut, every bruise, and every blow I’m going to give in repayment for what they did to my father. For what they did to me.” My mouth pressed into a grim line, and I stared at the aunties of the village laughing together. A few had come in from feeding the chickens, and another woman was rubbing warmed mustard oil into my nanu’s hair. Afra, the village elder, was burning a chili in the doorway of the house, warding off the evil eye that might have followed me from prison. It was an atmosphere of festivity—the swordsmith’s daughter, returning to the family of aunties who’d been there all her life.
Except that daughter was different now.
And though this was the place I’d grown up, I didn’t become who I was here. Not really. It wasn’t until I had lain on that stone floor in prison that the molten iron had truly entered my veins.
“I want you to be sure. Once we go down this path, we can’t turn back.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Areyousure? Can you go on, knowing that Souma’s killer is still out there?”
Noor looked away from me, the pain flashing across her eyes before staring at her bowl.
I nodded. “I didn’t think so. That isn’t possible for me anymore either. Not while they live.”
Mazin’s face floated to the top of my mind, like the first cloud in a gathering storm.
It would always come back to him.
